Moments
by TinkerVine le Fey
Summary: In which the High Priestess of the Coven gets the beautiful death she deserves. All the Slytherin smut. A gift for Moon.
1. Passion

Hey there Dahlings, this is a smutty one shot completely devoid of plot written as a thank you gift for my wonderful Coven Leader and *consummate* badass, Ms. Acantha Rayne Oak-Moon, who has created quite a following and encouraged many a witch to pursue their writing. Conical hats off to you, Moon. Please go check out all of her fics, as well as the Coven page, Priestesses of H.I.S.S.. You're welcome.

Partially inspired by The 1975's line "don't fall in love with the moment and think you're in love with the girl", as well as certain… vividly described... shades of pink. *winks at Moon*

Part of the Coven's "Shoot the Moon" challenge. Mwah hahaha.

This should make you laugh and not cry, but here's a TW anyway:

T/W: Copious polyamourus sexcapades (tried in earnest to keep it M rated so the Ward Keepers don't come for me), language, a bit of violence, character death (yep), dark humor, and Lucius being a bigoted ay hole par excellence.

Not beta'd, because it's a gift to my beta, duh.

On with the show!

**A scream.**

"Yes YES! Holyhead fucking Harpies YES!"

**Blackness.**

**Stillness. **

"Acantha?"

**Silence.**

"Acantha are you quite alright my dear?"

**Emptiness.**

"Is she dead?"

"She can't have died from this. She rides bloody shock pigeons for a living."

**Feels her pulse.**

"Seems to be the case"

"Bloody hell"

"Let's get her out of here".

...

2 Hours Ago

Lucius and Snape sit on the comfortable leather couch in the East living room of Malfoy Manor, sipping ludicrously priced brandy and chatting about the weather, or the curtains, or some other such drivel.

Lucius's hair is free and draped about his shoulders, dove grey collared shirt rolled to his elbows. The top two buttons remain undone to reveal a thin silver chain; it's simplicity is starkly opposing the many garish rings on his hands. One black boot is poised tastefully on his left knee, giving the whole affect an air of indifferent nonchalance.

Severus looks like Severus. Thick black hair pulled back in a leather tie - broody, stoic, and clad neck to foot in black.

Lucius cast a tempus in his impatience for the witch to arrive.

"She will be here. Don't get your knickers in a twist." Snape deadpans.

Just then, the floo roars to life and out steps a tall woman, ruby red locks fanned about her back, clad in bespoke black fitted garments with an emerald green outer robe.

"Severus, dahling!" She begins in a sultry alto, open arms pulling the brooding Potions Master into an embrace. "It's been far too long!" she hums as her embrace is returned.

"It's only been since yesterday morning, you insatiable tyrant." he mumbles into her hair.

"Far too long!" is her boisterous reply, as she releases her hold on the black clad man to turn her attention to present company.

"Ms. Moon, a pleasure as always." lulls the blonde, lifting her hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Oh take your archaic pleasantries elsewhere Malfoy." she says forcefully, jerking her hand away from his mouth, simultaneously maneuvering his free hand to wrap around her waist and pull herself flush against his chest. "Such a delicate disposition will have others confusing you for a pussy." she goads in his ear.

He growls as he snatches his snake-headed cane with his free hand, dealing a hard blow to her thighs that buckles her knees.

Allowing the cane to levitate back to it's habitual stance beside the couch, he scoops the witch up in both arms to carry her effortlessly to the loveseat nearest the fire.

"You would not be one to make such an... _imprudent _assumption, would you, Ms. Moon?" he asks lowly as she is whisked away.

"Never." She replies with an arched eyebrow, pupils blown wide as she clings for mercy around his neck.

"Excellent." he intones, throwing the witch with more force than necessary no less than a meter to the awaiting furniture below.

She lands with an indelicate "oomph" and a mutter of "I never..." before gaining her barings, as the assailant turns to the spectator to comment.

"Quite a roguish bint, this one." he observes aloud with a lingering sneer. "Where did you say you picked her up, Severus? America?"

"Here, actually." his dark companion replies, attempting to steer the conversation away from any impending disaster. "She was only in America for a short stint taming Thunderbirds."

"A brute, then." the blonde ascertains down his nose, staring daggers into the woman. His fragile ego is still bruised from her insult. "Then I propose before you absolve us of your delightful company, Ms. Moon, you shall earn a beneficial reminder that _every _animal does in fact, have a tamer."

Moon licks her lips in anticipation, grey eyes glinting as molten silver in the light from the fire. She stands, legs still smarting from her earlier reprimand, to walk measuredly to Severus, who is now reclining against the back of the furniture.

"We shall see…" She muses, nonchalantly releasing his hair from the confines of it's band. "Some creatures," she purrs, looking directly into the onyx fire of his eyes. "...are quite difficult" she runs her index finger along his cheek, her other hand entangled in his locks, "...to break." She concludes, placing a lingering kiss on the entranced Potions Master's patient lips.

"Ahem," comes a throat clearing, suddenly very close to her ear. She feels the warmth of strong arms grip her firmly around her waist from behind. She breaks away from the kiss to lean her head back in acknowledgement of the intruder.

"Cissy won't be joining us this evening." he purrs into her neck, placing an opened mouth kiss where her clavicle meets her pulse. "So, I'll need you to share your time with us, Ms. Moon." he continues, winding his tongue slowly up her jugular to engulf the skin beneath her jaw. "You understand sharing, correct, my dear?" he perseveres, slowly, beginning to nibble the lobe of her ear. "Elementary concept... truly." he whispers, before delving his tongue to wet every surface, setting all the nerves in her body alight.

Her hands briefly depart from their stance on the other man's neck, leaving a gaping void in their absence. She places them instead fully in the white curtains drifting about her shoulders, as she succumbs to his embrace.

"I'll consider," she acquiesces, not completely devoid of her sensibilities, yet thoroughly intrigued by her prospects. "I'll leave it to you, Mr. Slytherin, to provide me with the _reminders_ you seem so fond of." She closes both of her hands tightly on the soft white down near his scalp, eliciting a groan of appreciation from her target, as well as an amusing twitch from the hardness now pressed firmly into her back.

She feels a delicate touch begin at her ribs, making it's way worshipfully up towards her chest, where cool, thin digits trace their way along her collarbone, before finding their home reverently sketching circles on her breasts.

At the flood of sensation, she mutely gathers her thoughts to pull her wand from it's holster on her thigh, dragging it slowly down the center of her body, beginning with her neck. In the wand's wake, it leaves the fabric of her garments torn in two, the material sparking with majestic dying embers. The thousands of galleons she spent on this attire will be well sacrificed if her plot ends in her favor, she muses.

The dark man with onyx eyes had previously remained silent, preferring to enjoy the rapturous experience of touch with little commentary. At the display of pitch black clothing burning away to reveal creamy skin underneath, just one shade of pink off of white, he momentarily loses his meticulous composure to groan

"Oh, Acantha…"

As the intruder takes a few paces back to vanish his own wares, opting to let them sparkle away into the ether, the woman takes advantage of his reprieve to guide the dark man by his collar to the plush white rug beneath. She performs a similar spell on his garments, sending a silent prayer to Merlin he will be too entranced to care. As the smells of leather and cotton and smoke fill her senses, and he looks down at her in adoration, she knows her prayers have been answered. The intruder finds a seat and looks on, captivated.

She hooks her knee over his frost-white shoulder as she leans up to gather the pulsating skin of his neck in her mouth. This earns her a deep, wanton moan from the dark man, as he buries his face in her hair. His luscious timbre vibrates deep in her core, sending her heart pounding at previously uncounted rhythms. She continues her ministrations in an effort to coax more from him. She pulls his skin into her mouth with a harsh vacuum, leaving beautiful little marks, one shade of pink off red, along the column as she goes. He swells as blue veins swim from their depths to join them at the surface, begging for their chance to be touched as his neck is.

She pulls him to her, forcefully claiming his lips as hers, suckling and biting them into the same shade of pink as his love marks. More blue veins pulse their wanting, groveling for the attention of his lover, but the man is methodical.

He leans her down to the plush carpet below. He carefully removes her leg from it's resting place atop his shoulder, kissing the inside of her calf as he gingerly places it down. Her hips and thighs are voraciously open, as she mimics his movements with it's twin, resting her feet together at the soles.

He sets upon his knees, running his now warm hands down every expanse of her separated legs. The intruder saunters over to provide her hands a place to rest in their deprived state. He kisses and caresses, suckles and supplicates, as his companion draws in the deep aroma of her arousal.

The dark man teases her with attentive technique, placing kisses inside one thigh, then the other; one hip, then the other, stroking the tip of his tongue where muscle meets bone, moving closer and closer to her aching, burning nerves.

She thinks she might combust as she lets out a mewl of desire, to which she is silenced by an icy glare and soft pink lips swallowing her sounds of contentment.

She screams a muted wail into his mouth as her hips are held down and her vision goes white - the dark one grants her release as he greedily laps at her fountain.

As white fades to sparkling colors, and the myriad of hues transitions to the refocused room around her, she is now keenly aware of the presence of blood in her veins. It rings in her ears, it throbs in her neck. It heats every inch of her skin a delicious shade of rose.

She drags a trembling breath, aching at the loss of sensation as the dark man leans back on his elbows to admire his work.

"Allow me." offers the light one, gently rubbing circles on her overexposed center. She lets out what she meant to be a scream, but manifests as released breath with the hint of a melodious vocal. The music is beautiful.

As the light man removes his touch from her, the sensation continues. She looks at him in a questioning haze.

"Duplication spell." he murmurs, with a condescending smirk, as a way of explanation. "Over with you." He demands, tugging at her hip to bid her onto her stomach. She forces her rebellious limbs to cooperate, shaking as they comply to bring her onto her hands and knees.

She is facing the dark one, and the sight she beholds is glorious. She etches it in her mind's eye to keep it safe forever. His hair is a shining raven curtain, flowing to the alabaster skin flushed one shade pink. Her love marks are a chain of roses about his neck. The tip of his wand boasts a regal shade of near-purple, encircled by vines of blue violet blood veins.

Tears prick her eyes at the beauty, as she grasps his thigh in her trembling hand to beckon him closer. He obliges.

"No, no, my dear Ms. Moon." the light man's baritone tears her from her reverie, his possessive hands gathering all of her hair at the nape of her neck. She growls at the continued insistence that she is _his _dear. She is _his _nothing. She belongs entirely, inescapably, to the man she now stares at helplessly.

"As you have managed to leave me wanting long enough," he taunts, pulling her back by her hair to force her to meet his gaze "...you will now be subject to a _reminder_, of how to properly _share _your attentions."

He grips her hair, turning her head enticingly, forcing her to look again at the magnetizing face of her waiting lover.

"To properly quell the wildness in a beast," he relishes in his mock lesson "...one must not be lenient with it's reigns." he tightens the hand in her hair, spraying an iridescent tingle all the way down her spine.

"One must be diligent with discipline," he instructs, leaving a stinging handprint on her swollen arse. "if the beast is to work for their keep." He concludes his lesson by pushing her face forward, leaving her in a field of violets with a crowning purple rose as her reward.

She takes the dark man in her mouth, like a woman dying of hunger takes her first bite of sustenance. The light man guides her movements, pulling her up and down in rhythm by the base of her neck.

"Keep it up" he warns, releasing her hair with another rough hit to her backside. He then envelops himself in her glistening depths.

Her skin buzzes with magic as every touch, every smell, every sound is heightened to an unbearable degree. The sensations continuing on her sensitive apex are causing rivers to drench the thighs of the lover behind, as the feel of silk and taste of a salty sweetness in her mouth bring tears unbidden from her eyes. She doesn't want to close them as the writhing beneath her and the sound of her name escaping his lips fill her consciousness. The thrusting of their movement is like a dance; she is full to completion, then hollowed into nothing in a magnificent, treacherous coordination. She feels cool sweat trickling down her back as both of her lovers are close to release, and that feeling, is the one that sends her over the edge.

She rushes away abruptly as the light lover's seed spills upon the plush fibers of the carpet. She impales herself upon the dark lover as he releases into her waiting core. He moans her name as he toys with her overstimulated breasts. She lets out a scream that's been building for hours.

"Yes YES! Holyhead fucking Harpies YES!"

The darkness takes her for its own.

A/N: Whew! I'm sweating. Just saying.

Left y'all hanging, did I? I might be persuaded to let you find out what happens to our High Priestess for a few reviews. Evil fairy laughs.

How did I do for my first smut? Have I changed your mind about the color pink?

All the love and evil cliff hangers,

Xx Vine


	2. Greed

A/N: There's some dark humor in this one. I'm not usually one for dark humor, but here it was kind of unavoidable if I was going to write the story so… carry on then lol

It got a bit deeper than I was expecting. Damn plot dragons, burning my plans to the ground.

Tis unbeta'd.

The show must go on!

Vine

The woman falls limp, eyes rolling back in her head, as she collapses forward into the dark wizard's arms. Her limbs lay like a macabre halo around the head of the dark lover, enveloping him in the blood red blanket of her hair.

Stillness.

Something is wrong, the dark man correctly discerns.

"Acantha?" he speaks softly, rubbing circles on her back. He notices the frantic panting of moments ago has stilled, and her ribs lie dormant against his frame.

Silence.

"Acantha are you quite alright my dear?" asks a panicked Lucius, resting his hand upon her rapidly cooling arm.

Emptiness.

"Is she dead?" asks Snape, removing himself from the awkward position he discovers is a perfect analogy of his life to this point, laying the woman face up on Lucius's fancy rug.

"She can't have died from this! She rides bloody shock pigeons for a living!" Lucius replies frantically, with a hint of incredulousness carrying him through.

Snape feels for her pulse, hoping against reason his assumption is incorrect.

"Seems to be the case" he reluctantly replies.

"Bloody hell" the blonde man swears, wishing he were anywhere but here. Disposing the remains of deceased persons is one of his credentials he feels he has long since elevated himself from.

"Let's get her out of here." the dark man states pragmatically. He casts a cooling charm to preserve her brain functioning until he and his companion can alleviate her predicament. "We need to erect an altar."

The light man sighs a put-upon sigh.

"We have one on the grounds." he relents, sounding for all the world as if he's admitting to hiding a tin of Christmas biscuits in his closet.

"Of course you do." replies his companion, with a coarse roll of his eyes. _Malfoy Manor is a world of it's own._ he muses. _The altar is probably tucked somewhere between the torture chambers and the tennis courts. _

In reality, the altar is almost a kilometer walk from the Manor, out past a small orchard, in the middle of a picturesque meadow. They levitate the woman as they walk, the light lover casting his grievances upon his companion in a savage onslaught of insinuations as they go.

"Severus, there was no need for you to request her to travel this far to begin with. You are aware that long floo channels erode the constitution."

"She offered to floo in Lucius. She _wanted _to be with us this evening. I did not force her hand."

"I don't understand why I was urged to take part in this… _unfortunate _turn of events."

"She specifically requested your presence, and you obliged. Willingly, might I add."

"Severus, truly, I have dispensed to you French contortionists, all manner of lovely dark witches from halfway around the globe, and the first time you offer to share your fortunes with me…"

The light man is interrupted in his self-pitying tirade by an overtly exasperated Snape.

"You kill her." he interjects acerbically "You _kill _her Lucius, out of your own self-important need to prove your superiority." The dark man pierces his counterpart with a soul defeating, deafening glare.

Silence.

The dark man continues.

"Tell me, my _friend_, are you pleased with your conquest this evening?" he intones slowly, sarcastically, with the timbre of a Headmaster scolding a misbehaving child.

Lucius is silent for the remainder of the walk.

When they arrive at the altar, the woman's body is laid upon the cold grey stone. Severus removes his cloak, and begins the incantation:

"Flesh, flesh, flesh so wisely hidden…" he chants, feeling the taint on his soul as Dark magic courses through his blood.

The obelisks around the altar hum with magic.

Severus takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Expectro PATRONUM!" he shouts, as a shining silver doe erupts from the tip of his wand and dives into the chest of the woman laid bare before them. He feels a bit of his life drain into the woman, never to be returned to him. _You had better fucking appreciate this, Moon. _he grumbles internally.

Her chest begins to rise.

Lucius's lungs cave in as the anxiety of the past few hours dissipates, leaving in it's wake a rush of calm and relief. He walks to the altar, taking the robe Severus has discarded, to wrap the woman in it's reassuring embrace. He lifts her from the cold stone into his warm arms, resting her head on his shoulders, intending to cling to life for her until he can consider her safe in his confines.

...

Lucius Malfoy had never considered himself to be of an envious disposition. For what, did he have to be envious of?

He had been gifted the looks of a god, the gold of Midas, and the cunning of a black-footed cat. The prize of a beautiful wife was awarded to him for what little time he gave her. She was kind and devoted, understanding and bewildering, intelligent and competent; a stunning reward indeed for such a small toil on his part. In addition, the Fates gifted Lucius with luck in _spades_. He had barely escaped a life of imprisonment not once, but _twice_, on the merit of an elementary lie and a few charitable deeds, respectively. His son was a shining glory upon the name of Malfoy, with his sharp wit and enduring constitution. Lucius knew he had an unfailingly loyal friend in Severus, who's intelligence and generosity did not go unnoticed by the Malfoy patriarch. Not failing to mention, he and his family survived two wars, mostly unscathed.

What reason then, could Lucius Malfoy possibly have to feel such a petty and unbecoming feeling as jealousy?

This he pondered as he wrapped the sleeping woman is his arms to carry her back to the Manor proper. In truth, he had the same musings buried somewhere deep in his conscious earlier in the evening, hidden beneath the raging fires of a passionate encounter. Needless to say, they went unacknowledged at the time.

Alas, now the pangs of longing are at the forefront of his thoughts, and thus, he understands he will have to confront them if his mind is to be at peace.

Something in the way she approached Severus, with care and compassion, slowly tracing the outlines of his face before granting him a searing kiss, set Malfoy's blood to boil. The tenderness with which she had led him to the floor, the reverence in her gaze as she burned away his wares; it had been too much for him to comprehend at the time, so he looked on in awe, attempting futilely to make sense of it.

He watched her devotedly kissing his associate's neck as an artisan creates their crowning masterpiece. She was the painter, her tongue the brush, and her hands the easel that held her pristine canvas. Her strokes created exquisite roses about her design, each blossoming into a new ache inside of Lucius's heart. This work of art was branded into his mind as surely as the Dark Mark was burned upon his arm. He was certain it would haunt him in his dreams.

When they were together on his lavish imported carpet, he industriously sought to distract his object of affection from the ministrations of her usual lover, blocking her view of him entirely with his affections. He felt the heat of her skin and the rise of her pulse as his lips explored and conquered every centimeter of her bare torso. She was a quiet admirer, only letting a gentle sigh here and a bated gasp there. It annerved him immensely that he could never be sure what sounds belonged to him and which were the product of his friend's endeavors. This thought had never flitted through his perception with any of his previous lovers, and it suddenly became an intrusion upon his identity.

The straw that broke his brittle resolve came when a mewl of pleasure escaped her lips as she writhed beneath him. He had no delusions of who had caused it, and his revulsion was palpable. Lucius smothered her mouth with his own, swallowing any lingering intonation from her. He delighted in the vibrations soaking his tongue and seeping into his being. As she howled her approval into his greedy cavern, he relished each tone even as he plundered them from his companion. He wished to keep this moment for his own, capturing her pleasure as a portrait to hang in his study, viewing it again and again it when the mundanities and tragedies of life crush his very soul.

Lucius Malfoy supposes he may be infatuated.

As he lowers the woman gently to the plush bedding provided in one of the many guest rooms of his ancestral home, he considers what to do with this information. He sits in a wooden chair by her bed, contemplating his dilemma as he watches her chest rise and fall.

A/N: Oooh Luc has a crusshh! How will Cissy feel about this? Or Moon? Or _Severus_?! Ahh the anticipation ;)

All the green fairy sprinkles and Malfoy rants,

Vine

P.S. The incantation is from HPMoR, by Eliezer Yudkowsky.


	3. Sacrifice

T/W: This scene is twisted af. I've been hanging out with a shady crowd these days, and loving it. Side eyes to you Coven witches. You have been warned.

Vine

Severus sleeps soundly in one of the luxuriously appointed guest rooms in the West end of Malfoy Manor.

He awakens shivering violently, a frigid air suddenly encapsulating him as a thick cloud of black smoke descends upon the room.

The smoke congeals to reveal a feminine form, towering at least a full head above Severus.

He swears under his breath.

The form settles herself on the chaise lounge directly facing him, her long mahogany locks wafting in the chill breeze emanating from her very being. She throws back her black hood to reveal two green flames where her eyes should have been situated in her ghostly visage. Lips the color of day-old blood grace him with the most disturbing smirk, as her voice like shredding steel pierces him.

"Sevverrrrus" she begins, taunting him. Each syllable feels like another blow to his skull. "Tsk. Tsk."

"Dashon…" he speaks, meekly. "How... delightful for you to spare a visit." He locks down his occulmency shields and takes a deep breath of the startlingly cold air, bracing himself for whatever is to come. "I would have much preferred for you to have attained my soul whilst I slept, but of course you would not spare me the indignity of a screaming death."

"If memory serves me Sevvy" she hisses "I have already spared you one blood curdling demise, my sweet." her green flames rage in her skull "However, I do _so delight _in the sound of your screams."

The dark being laughs a cruel sound like an avalanche pulverizing a mountainside. Severus is sure his ears are going to bleed.

"My, my old friend…" she goads "You are making my job di-fi-cuulllt…" she drawls in a sing song hiss, causing his blood to turn to ice water in his veins.

She reaches across, dragging a talon the same macabre red as her lips along his neck, to his jaw, until his eyes meet her green flames.

He does not disgrace himself by responding.

"Your paramour has awakened dear boy. You have stolen from me yet again." the point of her relentless nail is digging a hole in his soft flesh, directly above the demon-snake's scar. He gathers every ounce of his breath to reply.

"I beg your pardon, O Eternal One, but I believe I only replaced a life to account for the many I have taken." he intones defiantly.

She laughs again, and he feels the hot blood trickle from his ears to drip freely down his neck.

"Always sooo _clever _Sevvy. I had forgotten how _entertaining _you can be." she draws her claw down to his collar by route of his neck, as he swallows his fear and trepidation.

"We have a deal, Dashon." he demands resolutely

"Why yes, Severrrus, _we _do. The Thunderbird tamer has nothing to do with _our _arrangement, as she has tempted me far beyond my patience already."

Severus is not at all in the frame of mind to play games with Death herself. He has had quite enough of that in his life, thankyouverymuch.

"What do you want from me Dashon?" he asks weakly. "If you have come to garner my soul, do it quickly and be done with your dallying."

"Hmmm…" comes the hum of a thousand ill-tuned violins, unharmonious chords clashing against his abused eardrums. "What do I want… Not your soul, certainly. Much too high a price to ask of a _friend…_" She scrapes her talons along his chest, drawing puffy red marks in their wake. "A sacrifice, certainly. That shall suffice until your time comes."

"What sacrifice do you wish?" he attempted again.

"I'll leave it up to you to _try _to appease me." the voice growls.

"And if my penance is insufficient?"

He doubles over in pain at the shrieking schadenfreude cacophony that is a mockery of human laughter.

"You will beg for Nagini's venom to end your misery."

With that, she vanishes into a cloud of smoke.

A/N: Shouts out to Tempest E. Dashon for the incredible imagery of Death! She has seriously inspired some HerDeath (Hermione x Death) shipping. Yep, that's a thing. Go check out her fics for all the mind blows.

Hope you liked it! Reviews make the green fairy sparkle and bring people back from the dead!

All the love,

Vine


	4. Celebration

A/N: This entire chapter is just riddled with silly references for my Coven crew.

T/W: Smut and mild gore.

This one's a rollercoaster. Get ready...click...click...click.. click click click click click

WHOOOSH….

Enjoy!

Early this fine October morning, sunlight pours it's molten gold across the Wiltshire countryside, stopping to spare a glance through the window across Moon's restful countenance, bidding her to awaken and partake in it's glory.

Moon's senses seem to come to her all at once - the warm sun streaming through the window, the crisp smell of meadows in autumn, and, singing?

A female voice, a tiny soprano, no, _falsetto_ tinkers like a miniature bell upon the ears of the stirring witch.

"...and I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine, and I told you be better, and I told you to be kind…" rings the tiny voice.

_Dear Merlin, which hell have you delivered me into?_ Moon wonders, daring to crack a sleepy eye to catch a glimpse of her assailant.

A spritely being small enough to bathe in a teacup flutters above her, clad in greenery and yellow flowers, holding a star tipped wand, heartily belting into the end of it.

"...and in the morning I'll be with you, but it'll be a different kind! And I'll be holding all of the tickets, and you'll be owning all the fines!" The fairy squints her eyes tight as every one of her teeth are displayed during her ominous serenade.

At this, Moon stifles a laugh as the being abruptly ceases her song to look down upon her with wide eyes.

The fairy taps the end of her wand, speaking in the same high pitch: "Master, she is awake."

"Hello…" the woman intones cautiously. "And you are?"

"Hello!" The creature greets her waking guest, flitting closer in fascination. "I'm Vine le Fey Ms. Moon."

"And who, prey tell, is your Master little Vine?" The witch grudgingly inquires. _Shall I be delivered unto Thoth? Or possibly Hades? _She wonders. _Hopefully not the piercing red glare of my ever-doting father_.

"Ahem!" The being stands erect, clearing her throat, responding in the most unequivocal representation of a man's voice ever contrived.

"Why, none other than Master Lucius Malfoy..." the being thrusts her tiny wand in the air, as a soldier wields a sword into battle. "Second of his name!" she clutches the wand to her chest "of the Most Ancient..." she swings her wand in a circle, gracing the air with a sprinkling of tiny lights "...and Noble..." she enunciates "House Malfoy." The creature takes a bow; to offer her service or as an end to her outlandish performance, Moon can't be certain.

As the creature rolls onto her back laughing, the witch begins to believe the latter assumption to be the correct one.

The door creaks open. She hears the telltale clicking of a cane upon the polished wooden floor. He's dressed in a tight white Muggle tee shirt and black silk pajama bottoms, topped with an emerald green smoking jacket. His bespoke slippers are fashioned from the same green material, crushed velvet from the looks of it.

_Ah, this hell then._ Moon considers. _With Lucifer, the light angel._

"Master!" intones the fairy in her twinkling voice, flying in haste to greet him. She taps her wand on the tip of his nose before settling into what Moon derives is her usual place on his shoulder. "I sang to her as you requested, but she took quite some time to stir. Miss Moon slept like the _dead_ Master!" The little fairy rolls over in a fit of sparkles and laughter at her own joke. Lucius seems decidedly less amused as he strides to Moon's side, having a seat in the chair beside the bed.

He takes Moon's hand between his own in silence, stroking the tendons lightly with his knuckles. Such care and compassion would have broken her resolve as a girl, but not today. Today she is suspicious of him, wondering what his intentions are for her, and where she fits into his schemes.

The fairy on his shoulder sits quietly, until she is dismissed to summon her companion. She flies off with a muttered "Yes Master." to do as she is bid.

He never breaks from her gaze as he speaks:

"You gave us quite a scare Ms. Moon." He begins, still gently stroking the back of her hand.

He found it quite odd the woman did not ask "What happened?", as if she were fully aware she had departed this world less than a full day ago. He keeps his musings to himself and continues.

"I must admit I may have made an… error in judgement using that duplication spell after you had traveled so far. I assumed your constitution to be immaculate seeing as you tame wild beasts, but truly it wasn't my most prudent decision." This is the most apology she's getting from him.

"Quite alright." she states curtly, never breaking his stare. She is sure he is trying to look for her soul in the depths of her eyes. He won't find it.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asks with a bit of acid creeping into her voice. This stokes the flames of his anger all over again. How dare she insult him when he is earnestly concerned, worried even, for her wellbeing?

"What I _want_, Ms. Moon is to ensure you can travel safely home without collapsing so _unattractively_ into the arms of the netherworld." he says coldly. As an afterthought, he adds "An expression of gratitude would be cordial, as it was _my_ altar used to save your _life_, you thankless ingrate."

"Your altar, eh?" she responds, just as frigidly as he "Then you didn't actually conduct the revival I assume?"

He looks at her with a sneer, averting his gaze to hide his chagrin. "Severus performed the rites, yes." He admits.

"So I owe you no debt?" she asks incredulously

"None but your thanks." is his flat response

"Thank you. Now I owe you nothing." she says triumphantly, arching an eyebrow.

He sighs. "Ms. Moon," he begins, pulling back the comforter and Severus's cloak to run his index finger down her exposed stomach, stopping at her hips to draw a smooth line back up to her navel. Her newly regenerated nerves take a toll for this, but her animosity is not dissuaded. He continues

"I wish not to make an enemy of you, but a... _companion_ perhaps…" he places an open mouthed kiss slightly below her navel. Her mind goes blank. "Would you like that, Ms. Moon?" he sighs, breathing his question over her dripping needs.

"A companion?" she replies half-lucidly as he dips his head to console her aching nerves "What would that…oh fuck…" gulp "...entail?"

"Companionship, of course." he replies cryptically, tauntingly. The vibrations of his lips send chills up her spine as he runs his warm hands up the expanse of her stomach to her ribs.

"Sis… Narciss...cissa?" she stumbles incoherently.

"Perfectly amicable, my dear." he assures her, taking his last drink of nectar before her world shatters.

"Severus!" she screams, as her dark love enters the room, dripping blood and covered in festering claw marks.

Lucius has never felt so defeated.

She rises from her station, greeting him with a crushing embrace.

"What happened?!" she wails, running her fingers gingerly along the destruction, frantically glancing for her wand to heal his wounds. He doesn't answer, instead taking her face in his hands to place a gentle kiss on her lips. As their mouths part, he looks into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" his heart is bare as he asks.

"With my life." She replies instinctively, placing her hands on his neck where the drying blood congeals upon her fingers.

He throws up a silencing spell as Lucius sulks with his two returned fairies.

"Acantha, there is something I need to tell you." Severus begins, his eyes rooted solely in hers. She listens intently.

"I will keep you." sounds his resolute baritone "To many ends of many worlds, I will keep you." her eyes are glassy as she worries over his sentiment. He progresses.

"If Death herself calls upon me, I will face her boldly, knowing it was not in vain to have you stay."

He seals his statement by cancelling the silencing charm and enveloping her in his arms, pushing her flatly against his pounding heart. He breathes in the smell of her hair, relishes the warm silk of her skin, bathes in the salt of her tears. If he has to face hell for her, so be it. He will hide this moment with every fibre of his soul from whatever thirsty demons seek to claim him. This he will take, and feel whole.

"Severus…" Lucius's tone is uncharacteristically gentle as he intrudes on his friend and his lover.

"Dashon." was his only reply.

Lucius nods in understanding. Acantha controls her urge to ask questions. Answers will come, but healing must take precedence in this moment.

The tiny green fairy called Vine flutters towards Snape, looking anguished as she views his battered state.

"Oh dear…" her broken heart is apparent in her tiny voice "You have been touched by Death Mister Snape. Let me help fix you."

Not waiting for his reply, she flutters her wand up the gashes on his chest. They slowly knit together. The hole in his neck is cured by her touch, as her soft hum is a soothing balm upon his hearing.

Acantha raises a questioning eyebrow at Snape, to which the Fae answers.

"No need to worry Miss Moon." she placates, fluttering near the witch's face. "Fae are naturally immortal. Like lobsters." She adds needlessly, garnering another confused look from the witch. "Death does not belong to my kind, and does not belong in this home." She flutters back to Lucius, tapping the end of his nose with her wand again. "Isn't that right Master?" she asks with a pleased grin. The blonde gives her a pat on the head for her efforts, and she warmly cozies into his neck in return.

Another sprite flits to Acantha, this one with dark brown hair and alluring dark eyes. Her face is childlike, instantly endearing. She speaks.

"Oh, pobrecita!" She begins "Ven a la cama mijita." Moon follows the tiny being to the bed, sparing a sharp look at the light man.

"I don't know what she's on about." Moon says as a means of questioning, taking a seat on the bed.

Lucius arches his pale brow while fixing her with an impressively condescending appraisal.

"Do I look… like an interpreter?"

The fairy on his shoulder interjects.

"No Master! You look like a god. Or possibly an angel." she sighs, besotted.

Lucius rolls his eyes.

Snape pinches the bridge of his nose, casting a captioning spell to translate for Moon.

"Me llama Nyxxi señorita. Estoy aquí para ayudarte." The captioning spell writes in Snape's immaculate script "My name is Nyxxi, young woman, I am here to help."

Moon nods her approval.

"Has sido besado por La Catrina, pero sobreviviste." she continues. The script reads "You have been kissed by the Woman of Death, but you survived."

Moon takes an anxious inhale, holding in the burdens of this truth.

The fairy called Nyxxi evaluates the witch, determining where to begin. She touches her sparkling green wand to the center of the witch's forehead, and speaks again. Her voice calms the nervous reactions of her patient.

"Tu corazón está muy triste, pero no tienes razón." Snape's caption reads "Your heart is very sad, but you have no reason."

_Little do you know sprite…_ Acantha muses

The being floats directly in Moon's line of vision, looking up at her with the darkest, roundest eyes; imploring her to believe.

"Eres amado, y tú _eres_ amor." she twinkles, sparing a tap for the witch's nose with her wand.

"You are loved, and you _are_ love." Moon reads in her lover's elegant scrawling. The words she has never heard from his lips paint a whole new image of longing upon her heart. She yearns for the statement to feel complete.

The being spins dizzyingly around Moon's person, weaving a brilliant silver gown in her wake. The dress sparkles in iridescent splendor only a Fae could accomplish. Blues and greens, purples and violets gleam from her attire, painting the walls with brilliant light. She muses this is the first garment she has ever donned that wasn't the pitch black of her lover's soul, or the envious green of her house.

"Deja que tù corazón cante, mija. Hoy vives." "Let your heart sing, my little one. Today, you live"

The creature begins a tune, the same enchanting falsetto as her previous counterpart, albeit with ten fold more passion.

"De la sierra morena, cielito lindo vienen bajando…"

Snape is instantly exasperated at the foolishness he perceives to be this scenario, laying all his grievance to the ear of his light counterpart.

"_Singing_ bleeding _Fae_ Lucius? Have your sensibilities abandoned you _completely_?" He groans mercilessly. "You are the most _pompous_, ostentatious, _snivelling_ excuse for a wizard…"

Lucius throws a silencing spell around his companion to interrupt his lambasting.

"Put a cork in it Severus." he demands. "Live a little, will you? Or has the Grumpy Bastard Potion you've been imbimbing all these years finally caused permanent damage upon you?"

The potions master snarls forbiddingly.

"Listen, they're getting to the good part." Lucius implores.

"Ay, yay, yay, yay, canta y no llores! Porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones!" belts the tiny fairy, with much more volume than Moon believed her to possess. The green fairy, Lucius, and if Moon is correct, possibly a few house elves, join in for the repetition of the chorus, creating a beautiful melody of healing.

"Ay yay yay yay, canta y no llores! Porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, sing and don't cry! Because singing makes beautiful the little sky in your heart."

A/N:

Bahahahahaha oh my Circe... I really have no idea how Moon ended up getting the Disney princess treatment here, but I for one, am thoroughly amused.

With Dia de los Muertos coming up, I wanted to take this moment to celebrate life, while honoring those who are gone from this world. I hope I managed to capture that energy here.

Big thanks to Nyxx for being our adorable singing fairy, and Dash for playing the role of Death Herself.

As always, all the praises to our Most Amazing High Priestess Acantha Rayne Oak-Moon for inspiring this story and trusting me to run with it. You give my plot dragons the courage to fly, and occasionally burn shit to the ground.

Happy Dia de los Muertos if you are celebrating.

All the love and fairy blessings,

Vine

P.S. Lobsters are indeed naturally immortal. Fascinating really. Google it.


	5. Foolish Pride

Lucius Malfoy sits in his study, nursing his drink, recounting his losses for the day. He is not enjoying his treasured plush armchair, nor the smell of wood and parchment wafting through his nostrils. Her voice, screaming out Severus's name, still echoes within him. He is certainly not tasting the vintage Firewhiskey he has procured from the cellars to slow his turbulent thoughts. He barely registers the burn in his throat and the warmth of his skin as the nagging Fae arrives to torment him.

Seeing he is alone, as he often is at this hour, she taps her wand to her temple to take on her human form.

He does not acknowledge her presence.

She walks behind the throne he has seated himself upon, running her hands through his hair, short nails scratching at his scalp as she gathers the white down to a queue in her hands.

She speaks sweetly, as if he were formed from marble, and every word she utters will chisel a new piece from him.

"Just as the hair at the end is no longer at the root, and the hair from the root has yet to grow, so are the affections of others, my love." she lets his hair fall as a silvery curtain upon the chair. The Fae continues speaking her riddles to his reluctant ears.

"Just as you need not hold the sun in your fist to enjoy it's light and warmth, neither do you have to control the love of another. You can be refreshed by a cool breeze, even as it passes." she tells him. Wouldn't it be delightful if humans would listen to known wisdom instead of learning through experience? she wonders.

She returns to the ottoman at his feet, her usual stance for such a time as this, crossing her legs beneath her as she stares at him. She is silent for a spell, waiting for him to look at her. When he does, she speaks:

"Why must you possess everything you wish to lay your hands upon? Why can't you enjoy the thing while you have it, and return to Magic what Magic has given you when the time is right?"

He swallows, not sparing her an answer. He doesn't have an answer for himself.

He hates how she just keeps looking at him. With that insipid countenance of adoration and... worship. Her eyes are so soft and pleading, a deep stormy grey so unlike his own silver-glass orbs. He can clearly see his reflection on the many sparkling surfaces within.

His blood itches in his veins every time she questions him - makes him question himself. If there is one thing Lucius Malfoy needs to be entirely certain of, it's his own capacity for control. She makes him doubt his very being. For this, he loathes her with the fires of hell. For this, he can't force her to leave.

She sits in his lap, hoping the closeness of her presence will distract him from his ruminations. He does not move to adjust to her weight. He sips his Firewhiskey as if she isn't there at all. Perhaps if he pretends she doesn't exist, she will cease to manifest herself.

"The moon will rise and set in her own time, my love. There is nothing you can do to control it. You only control whether you choose to greet the sun when she calls."

He is not in any mood to heed the fairy, despite the cutting truth resonating in his black heart from her words.

At this, her eyes are lovelorn and weary, glistening with tears. Still, he does not speak.

"You toy with my afflictions, Master." she forces the sentiment through the tightening of her throat, choking her tiny voice.

"You are not human." He says flatly. _We have been through this._ He tone implies. _This is not a new argument._

She stands. There is no anger in her eyes, no resentment. Nothing but heartache and toil and loss.

"Neither are you." she states matter of factly. "You are a monster of a man-child, wishing for the Earth itself to bow before you. When your gold runs thin, so will you. When your luck runs dry, you will try to connive Death herself into believing she is not worthy of your presence." He makes no argument against her. "When Magic turns her back on you, and you are left staring at the empty void, who will keep you from succumbing to the embrace of darkness Lucius Malfoy?"

He stands, placing his hands resolutely on her thin shoulders.

"You will."

"I will." she confirms through her tears.


	6. Best Laid Plans

A/N: This one is a bit slower moving than the rest, but I promise you will appreciate the ending. I gave you some MoonxSev fluff in as an incentive for you to make it that far.

One with the show!

Vine

Acantha Moon has not eaten since she arrived in Wiltshire yesterday afternoon. It is evening now, and the golden sun is withdrawing her generosity with one last glorious display of her majesty. Vivid reds and royal purples mix with oranges too deep and satisfying for words to envelop Moon in their radiance. She sits comfortably cocooned in Severus's arms, still wearing her Fae spun accoutrements, which are now glittering with the fire of the ends of one thousand days. She finds herself wishing Severus had brought his elves along. They know precisely how she takes her tea, and just which socks would warm her chilled feet. So far, her hunger has been stayed by her distaste of the formality inherent to the forbidding Malfoy dining room, along with her lover's steadying presence.

Earlier, once Lucius had taken his Fae and stomped off to Merlin knows where, Severus looked deep into her eyes and answered every question that had been festering between them.

He told her of the revival ceremony, in which he had willingly offered a portion of his life to bring her back from the clutches of Death. A disgusted Snape replayed his horrid memories of the Shrieking Shack for her, in which he lay on the floor dying from blood loss and snake venom, where he first encountered the Lady of Death. Moon studiously hid her trembling hands as she watched the wicked Dashon award her lover a second chance at life, in honor of all the souls he had unwillingly gifted her during his years in Voldemort's service. He recounted his recent 'visit' from Dashon to an enraged Moon, who vowed to pluck the green flames from Death Herself for such torture of her beloved. Reluctantly, he explained the sacrifice he would have to offer to procure Death's favor and ensure both of their longevity.

"When shall she return to claim your penance?" asked Moon.

"If I know Dashon, which I unfortunately determine to be true, she will arrive unexpectedly, at the least opportune time." he replied somberly. "We must make haste to prepare for her arrival. Every moment is of the essence."

Moon nodded her agreement, and so began their plotting. Some of their proposed schemes were truly dastardly, churning their stomachs in disgust. As such, the narrator will not recount them to you, on the off chance - Magic forbid - you find yourself in similar circumstances.

In the end, their meeting of minds returned them empty handed into the realms of despair, soaking up each other in an effort to quell the looming dread of their predicament.

"You must eat." Severus's pragmatism breaks the spell cast by the dying twilight upon her melancholy countenance.

"Must I?" she replies, just as her stomach attests to her lover's correct assessment of the situation. Although she would much prefer to take her sustenance in-room with him, she understands greeting her hosts would be a cordial act, and every helping hand reached out to her will be of the utmost benefit in her dire circumstances.

She rises and stretches, allowing for a glorious display of lights to flicker upon every surface of the darkening guest room. Severus is enchanted by her beauty, drinking in her dazzling visage before rising to take her hand.

"We must." he intones, gently guiding her to the door to lead her through the winding Manor corridors.

She pulls back.

"Wait." she implores. He looks to her expectantly. "You don't quite expect me to arrive at table barefoot, do you love?" She spares him a grin. Apparently the Fae had deemed footwear unnecessary in their haste to robe her. She pulls out her wand to fashion herself a dainty pair of black flats, soft and cushioned for the long walk ahead of them. She grants him a warm smile, and he offers a gentle kiss to her forehead in return.

The two walk in silence, followed by a plethora of glittering fairy lights to illuminate their dark and winding path.

At last, they descend upon the Malfoy dining room. It isn't nearly as ominous as Acantha has been expecting. She notes the table presented them seats exactly four, with the Lady and Lord of the Manor already present and entertaining dismal looking bowls of leafy greens. Two floating candles illuminate the small bouquet of white flowers at the center, and the aroma of stewing mushrooms with onion and peppers causes Moon's mouth to wet in anticipation.

Lady Malfoy stands to greet her guests, as her husband silently studies his lackluster salad.

"Acantha, so delightful to see you! You are looking most ravishing this evening, my dear!" her host greets her with open arms, pulling her into a light embrace, blowing kisses to both of her cheeks. The gesture is somehow both reassuring and deeply unsettling to Ms. Moon, who was not expecting such a warm welcome from a woman who's husband she had recently… enjoyed intimate entertainment with. Lady Malfoy continues,

"Ah, I see our darling Nyxxi has gifted you most fitting dinner attire." she spins Acantha by the waist, admiring the beautiful gown. Had she not died just yesterday, Moon may have chanced hexing the lady of the Manor for her most unwelcome encroachment upon her person. Instead, she schools her features to remain nonplussed as Narcissa continues her evaluation.

"Her work is quite splendid, yes? Nothing like Fae magic to draw out the beauty from the ashes, as it were." Moon silently wonders if Lucius has mentioned her burning spell to his lovely wife. She decides she will have a talk with him, possibly a quite loud and colorful one, at a later time. Narcissa turns her attention to Severus, who seems quite unbothered by her overindulgent greetings.

"Severus! You are positively pallid!" she looks aghast at the Potions Master while calling for an elf. "Mimsy!" she intones. The elf pops into the room, awaiting her instruction. "Be a dear and bring Mister Snape a hot cup of cocoa; the cinnamon and firewhiskey variety."

"Yes Madam." replies the elf, briefly departing to arrive seconds later with a steaming mug of chocolate libation for the guest.

Severus wandlessly guides a chair from the table, imploring his love to sit. She casts him a glare that undoubtedly communicates "I tame the thunders of the gods, and am most capable of handling a wooden chair, thank you." She appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.

They take their seats as the unpalatable greens vanish, to be replaced by a hearty mushroom stew and delectable garlic risotto, with a side of warm crusted bread topped with melted cheese.

As the four enjoy their fill of the indulgent meal, Narcissa attempts to guide them all in frivolous pleasantries, seemingly unaware of the lurking danger upon their very souls. She asks Moon about her work, and Severus about his new Potions, as Lucius sips his soup in silent melancholy. As the conversation and wine run empty, she encroaches the subject that has been plaguing their collective consciousness for the entirety of the meal.

"So," she begins, looking askance at both Severus and Moon, sparing a quick side-along glance to her brooding spouse. "Any ideas of what you shall sacrifice to Dashon?"

She relays the question as lightly as if she were asking about their state of satisfaction with the meal. This is indescribably perturbing to Moon, who is certain now she will take her first opportunity to hex the impertinent witch who she is now watching take dainty bites of the superbly prepared flan and rich caramel sauce.

Severus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he is wont to do when asked questions of such caliber.

"Nothing." he replies, with a morose shake of his head.

"Yes, nothing at all." replies Moon with hurt and foreboding evident in her tone.

Lucius, who has remained silent for the majority of this exchange, finally speaks up.

"Narcissa!" he scolds, granting a dangerous glare to his wife "What could they… we..." he corrects himself, as this entire scenario can reasonably be attributed to his folly "… _possibly, _grant to a guardian of _Death _which she cannot take for herself?" as he snarls at his affronted spouse, Moon has an epiphany.

"Something she can't take for herself, you say?" murmurs Acantha, her thoughts coalescing into a plan of action even as she speaks them.

The entire time she and Severus had been plotting, they worked off of the assumption of sacrificing something Dashon would _want_. What more desire can be gained, than from something one cannot possess? It is a brilliant idea, truly, she muses. One she is sorry she hasn't thought of until this moment.

For the first time in days, Acantha feels hope bloom in her chest where crushing agony had taken up residence. She throws her head back in a maniacal laugh as the genius of her thoughts overwhelm her. The Malfoys and Severus share questioning glances as she speaks.

"We will bring her my father."

A/N: Told ya! :)

There was some deep Fae insight in here that I would love to hear your opinions on in the comments.

For all of you who suggested I sacrifice my Darling Draco, Death does not want his shiny, fluffy brattiness disgracing the darkness of her abode. He is far too beautiful for eternal damnation.

All the fairy lights to illuminate your winding path,

Vine


	7. Ignorance

A/N: A short and sweet little action shot for you lovely witches and wizards.

Enjoy!

Vine

Narcissa Malfoy prides herself in catching on quickly in nefarious situations. Surviving two wars in which her husband was heavily involved has astutely sharpened her aptitude for thinking on her feet, as it were.

Nonetheless, she must admit her confusion at this new development.

Severus stands, slamming his broad hands into the quaint wooden table, nearly knocking it off balance.

"Absolutely not! I will not stand to lose you twice!" His baritone is hostile, the line between his eyes furrowing in a mixture of anger and pain.

Moon stands with him, cupping her hands gingerly around his jaw which has now grown tight and foreboding.

"He has been evading death for nearly a century, Severus, and I am his final tie to this world. If you are to grant her an offering, what else could she possibly desire?"

Severus forces his tears beyond the clandestine walls of his Occlumency shields as he pictures her lifeless body laid bare upon Malfoy's altar. He feels the sting of regret for having any part of her untimely demise. Most potently, his heart is shredded into a million bloody parts as he imagines a life without her by his side.

He pulls her into a bone-crushing embrace, forcing the air in her lungs to bide it's time as he whispers his plea into her ear.

"Please Acantha… _please_, don't leave me."

Lucius leans close to his wife to whisper with no hint of certainty

"What are they on about?"

Narcissa glares toward her mate as she clears her throat to interject on the emotional display being enacted by her guests.

"Ahem, pardon me, Severus, Moon, but I do believe Lucius and I are quite lost on this matter. Please excuse my ignorance, but Lord Moon has always seemed a kindly gentlemen to us, and not the sort Death would have a particular… interest in."

Moon radiates another unsettlingly manic laugh as Severus releases her ribs from his hold.

In this moment, facing her death for a second time, she sees no pertinent reason to withhold information from her hosts.

She starts at the beginning, recounting to them how she was adopted as an infant by the gentle and caring Moon family who had no children of their own. Her life had been free of sorrow and worry, growing up in the nurturing embrace of her Mum and Dad. She goes on to explain the family tree she had commissioned on her eighteenth birthday, which revealed the disgrace upon her heritage; her birth father's hideous blood.

"So…" drawls Lord Malfoy, swallowing his disgust as he clarifies the situation for himself "You… are the direct descendent... of the Dark Lord." At the thought of Voldemort somehow producing offspring, Lucius's blood curdles and his cock tucks itself distastefully somewhere behind his navel.

Narcissa schools her face to reflect none of the revulsion she is feeling at this unpleasant turn of events. She shoves aside her past beliefs and attempts diligently not to judge the woman in front of her for the unfortunate status of her lineage. She obviously couldn't choose who she was born to, afterall.

"So…" Narcissa begins, unsure of where to guide the conversation "You are planning on sacrificing yourself to hand over what remains of your father unto Death? You suppose this will appease her enough to spare the suffering of our dear Severus?"

"That's correct." replies Moon.

At these comments, Severus looks inextricably pained, as if the very mention of such an idea will cause him to fall ill.

"There must be another way…" he laments to no one in particular.

Just as Moon moves to intercede, Narcissa speaks up.

"Oh I do believe there is Severus. One I might help with, in fact, if you feel so inclined."

To say Severus is 'so inclined' would be akin to saying hell itself is 'a bit warm'. He would do anything, _anything _at all to save his beloved from the throes of Dashon.

Moon has had quite enough of Lady Malfoy's audacity for one evening. As such, a bit of contempt creeps into her voice and her eyes narrow slightly as she speaks.

"Oh? Do tell Narcissa. What is this glorious plan you may assist us in that does not end with me back upon your lovely altar?"

She leans with her folded hands upon the dinner table, breaking quite a few rules of Pureblood decorum in the process.

"Miss Moon…" the once again affronted Lady Malfoy begins cautiously "What do you know of blood magic?"

The two witches discuss their budding strategy as the wizards listen in awe. Narcissa informs Moon that Muggles, of all creatures, have devised a way to decode the building blocks of life. They can effectively read and record the very blueprints that decide who a person is. She tells her all about the ritual needed to separate one piece of the architecture from the other, effectively isolating any remnants of the Tom Riddle that live on through her. Once the separation is complete, she will replace the lost pieces with ones from a magical person, and they will deliver what remains of her father to the Death creature. All she will need, she says, is a piece of his body.

Any piece will do, she states. A bone, a hair, or even a nail from the former Dark Lord would suffice. As Narcissa reaches out to her contacts at St. Mungo's to procure a bag of donated blood from the Vampiric Sustenance Unit, Severus and Acantha quickly apparate to the old Moon residence to scrounge for anything gifted to her from her father.

A/N: She asked to be the spawn of Voldy... don't ask me, I'm just the granter of fantasies.

All the dark and stormy blessings,

Vine


	8. A Tale of Two Beasts

A/N: To quell any notions of hexing the balls off our supporting character.

Enjoy!

Vine

It is deep into the night as Lucius once again finds himself drinking in his study. He has half a mind to floo Draco for a sleeping draught, or wake Snape to brew one for him. His Pureblood sensibilities won't allow it, thus, here he sits, the information he has gleaned today pounding it's treacherous cadence on the inside of his temples and backs of his eyes.

How could he have fallen so swiftly for the charms of the spawn of _Voldemort_? Was there something inherent to his psyche that attracted him to pure evil? He ruminates over his predicament while sipping his libations.

Per usual, he is not granted one moment of reprieve, not one beat of silence in the dead of night where the Fae does not come to call upon him.

She is already in her human form, as if she were anticipating such a scenario. In truth, Malfoy acknowledges he has made this somewhat of a predictable occurrence. She stands at full height just over the top of his armchair, her usual greenery exchanged for a short navy blue gown twinkling with silver lights.

"Ah, Vine." he calls as he hears the door open. "Do come in and intrude upon my peace." He rolls his eyes, although his back is turned to her. "I'd offer you a drink, but I'm afraid I've nothing to suit your indulgence for sweetness."

She ignores his snide comments as she takes her preferred seat upon his ottoman, crossing her legs beneath her in a most immodest fashion. Her arms are completely bare, the tops of her breasts just visible above the line of her clothing. He notes for the first time her skin is quite lovely, almost the color of jasmine flowers freshly bloomed. Her short brown hair falls unnervingly into her eyes. She gives him the mischievous smirk he has become impervious to, or so he would like to believe.

"Master, you should be sleeping." her voice calls to him as a bell to a dog. Truth be told, her presence isn't entirely unwelcome. Being alone with his thoughts is a much worse fate at this hour.

"Ah, but if I were sleeping, who would be awake for you to harass with your puzzles?" he drolly responds.

He takes another sip of his fourth Firewhiskey as she laughs. Whether it's the liquor or sleep deprivation, he can't be sure, but the melodious sound of her laughter draws a stir from his lesser nature, and he allows it to lull him to docility.

"Would you like a story then, Master?" she asks with a knowing grin.

"If I say no, you will tell me at any rate, hmm?" he inquires.

She giggles as she sets about her ridiculous penchant for cowing him into insanity.

"Old Fae legends tell a story of two beasts, Master"

He sighs with another roll of his eyes.

"I have no want of children's fantasies of mythical beings, Vine" he replies, exasperation clear on his face and in his tone.

"Oh I assure you Master, these beasts are quite real. I have seen them with my own eyes." she states determinedly. "The wizards who came to destroy my village had droves of them." Lucius shutters at her recollection, but she remains firm.

"They used them to burn our homes, steal our families and try to plunder our magic. There are stories the world over that tell the same tale." Sadness creeps into her eyes as she weaves the tapestry of her memories before him.

"One beast is a devourer. Men think they can tame it, for it starts as such a small and innocent looking thing. When a man first encounters it, it will request birds and rats for sustenance. As the beast grows, it begins to request dogs, then pigs, then erumpents and dragons! When there is nothing left for the devourer to consume, it will gorge itself upon your very soul, for it's favorite delicacy…" she lowers her voice "...is the hearts of men."

This beast sounds ominous, and as he hasn't heard of such creatures being used in the destruction of the Fae previously, he is reluctantly intrigued. The fairy continues.

"The second beast is quite the opposite. It will only feed on what it wants, and the things it requires are quite specific. Oddly so, in fact." A look of confusion crosses her face as she shakes her head, seemingly to rid herself of such an idiotic train of thought.

"It will ask for the sun, or the stars, or the Moon in all it's glory." she looks directly into his eyes at this statement. He looks away, abashed, as he feels hot shame wash over his face. She continues

"It fixates upon it's desired meal, starving and toiling as it lies in wait. It will not feast nor rest until it's jaws are locked upon it's target." She snaps her fist shut, to demonstrate a mouth closing upon a victim.

"The irony of this beast, Master, is as soon as it sets it's sharp fangs upon it's conquest... when it is _salivating_, ready to devour and relish…" she waves her hand in the air, making the motion of sprinkling salt with her fingers "...the prey will turn to ashes upon it's tongue."

He now understands her story is but an allegory, and her continued insistence of speaking in riddles perturbs him. As he has assumedly already committed enough of his time listening to her ramblings, he decides to indulge the creature by allowing her to make her closing point.

"And what, pray tell, would these beasts be called in human language, dear Fae?" he questions sarcastically.

She smiles as she replies, taking advantage of his limited attention.

"Ah, the first is called by many names, my love." she strokes the back of her hand across his jaw in a caring gesture "Most call it ambition, or survival. Power, or prowess; but it's true name, is _Greed_."

She stares into his eyes, her pupils blown wide as she attempts her Fae magic on the depths of his soul. She licks her rosebud lips as the pounding of his heart becomes audible. She continues her quandaries in a lower tone of voice than he thought her capable of, stirring his palms to sweat, and his blood to rush away from his higher functioning.

"The second is called want... or longing... even at times, love." she pauses for a time, grasping both of his knees none too gently, still diving relentlessly into the silver depths of his eyes "It's true, _terrible _name, is _Lust_."

These are beasts Lucius Malfoy knows all too well, and he suspects, the Fae does too. He has strived to hide them and to bury the feeling of them devouring his heart and soul for as long as he can remember. He knows he has lied to himself about their presence within him for far too long. He has failed to tame and to master their growing demands, all to his detriment.

The sorrow his actions have weighed down on him is immeasurable, and he longs to be free. His usually snide and assured baritone comes out as a choked whisper as the fairy's magic takes hold of him.

"How?..." he questions "How do I cause the beasts to submit?"

"Starve them." she says with finality as she pulls away. It's as if a bucket of ice water has been doused upon him as she parts.

She quickly grants him the warmth of her presence once again, as she settles herself behind his chair, using her small, strong hands to work away the anxiety that has been storing itself in his shoulders.

"My love," she whispers directly in his ear, causing every pale hair to stand on end along his neck. "Why, should a man such as you, carry so many burdens upon his heart?"

He ponders over this question as he melts into her hands, breathing in her scent. It's a magical bouquet of sweetness and bluebells, fresh oranges and gardenia. Hers is the aroma of new springs.

The burden of power, he supposes, is prudent for him to possess. Survival is a burden all must endure, and thus is a given. The burdens of possessing, of owning and conquering, these are all torments he supposes can live without; but does he wish to? Will it break him if he gives them up, if only for a moment of solace?

She continues, even as his muscles warm to her touch and her magic is thrumming a soothing melody along every inch of his skin.

"My love," she breathes into his neck, standing on tiptoes to slip her hands down the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. As she works her small fingers into the muscles of his chest, the tension there releases its hold on his countenance. She pleads with him -

"If you must take; if you must have a conquest, I beg of you, own this very moment." She leans with all of her might into her movements and voice, hoping her magic will be enough to plant the seed of redemption upon his battered soul. "Take it and hide it in the deepest places of your heart to brighten the darkness when it comes."

His mind is spinning and his body buzzing. She can feel the response her attentions are drawing from him. He is overcome by her scent and delighted in the warmth of her touch. It's taking every particle of his resolve to compose himself and ask the question that's been lingering on his mind since he brought her into his home.

He reaches into the breast of his shirt to take her by the wrist, imploring her to come around to him. She responds as she is bid, settling herself across his lap, one knee beside each of his hips. He takes her face gently in his hands. Drawing an unsteady breath, he speaks before his faltering courage abandons him.

"Why do you call me that?" he asks softly. There is no chastisement in his voice, only curiosity, as if he is completely oblivious to her reasoning. _Why do you bother with an acidic bastard like me? Why do you offer your kindness as if it's something I could ever deserve? _The words ring in his mind, but he dares not voice more questions.

She laughs a tinkling laugh, and it's like a glittering stream to cool his parched soul.

"Why do I call you what? Master? I'd think that quite obvious…" she cheekily replies.

"Your love." he rebuffs at once "Why do you call me your love?" he strokes her messy brown hair out of her eyes, enchanted by the glistening, stormy seas of her irises. "I have never told you I loved you, or even cared for you. I've treated you with nothing but indifference since I found you that day."

She laughs again, wiping a tear from her cheek. He has never noticed how rosy and alluring she is when she's flustered.

"When you found me, my love, do you remember what you said?"

He cannot recall. It was so long ago. He only remembers looking down upon a little fae creature, huddled in the bell of a daffodil, sniffling and reddened. She continues.

"You said, 'Ah, this creature might prove useful', even as you scooped me up and set me upon your shoulder." she traces his eyes for any hint of recollection. She finds none, so continues

"I said, 'Yes, I will be _the most useful_, Master, if you will only take me from this place.'" Her tears fall silently as she recounts the scene. For once, Lucius is compelled to wipe them away. He pulls her in to lament her troubles upon the bare skin of his neck.

He feels her murmur into his shoulder, painful vibrations resonating through his bones at her loss.

"Haven't I proven myself useful?" she asks "The _most _useful, the most _loyal_, of your consorts?" she sniffles so delicately, running her face across her bare arm to relieve it of it's wetness. She can't meet his eyes. "Have I ever been anything but?" she questions, defeated.

He tilts her chin up with his index finger, imploring her to return him to deep grey oceans and days of quiet storms.

"Answer me." he demands.

As she grants him a mirthless laugh, he longs for the trickling stream to show it's face once more.

It is her turn to place a hand on his cheek.

"I call you my love, because you _are _my love." she says gently, as one might explain to a small child "Your heart was nearly empty when you found me." This, he knows to be true.

"Each day, Lady Narcissa poured her love into that dark cavern, as did Young Master Draco, and even Mister Snape in his own contrite way." Another truth he has no argument for.

"You are a collection of all of their love, and the love of your mother who bore you. However, what you needed, then and now, was more."

She wraps her arms around his neck, readjusting her weight on his lap. As she rises, she feels the heat dissipate under her thighs, the sweat cool behind her knees, and his heart pound against her breasts.

"Day by day I pour every drop of my love into you." she tells him, stroking his cheek. All the ghosts of her earlier smiles are vanished from her gaze "I give you all the pieces of the world I know how, Master, and I see your heart fill. There is a light in your eyes that had not made it's presence known before." She looks deep into his soul, resolution clear on her face.

"For that, I know I have been of use."

As she makes to stand, and no doubt depart, Lucius gives in to the inclination to hold her close to him. He will not have her flit away from him after she has flayed open his very soul. He supposes he is the master of nothing, least of all this beautiful creature who fell into his possession by happenstance. He can barely master his own mind, much less his body's reaction to her enticing presence.

"Before you go…" he says into her lips, eyes drifting closed as he enjoys one last touch of her body against his

"Please…" a word he may have never spoken in earnest before now

"Never call me Master again."

A/N: This idea was inspired by a mixture of the Three Poisons from Buddhist teachings and The Tale of Two Wolves from Native American mythology.

Also, hopefully this will clear up the question of how the Malfoys acquired their Fae.

All the Fae magic and heart filling blessings,

Vine


	9. Ambiguity

A/N: Here we have our Coven Leader going through some icky stuff to save her skin, and Severus's.

T/W: Lots of blood, dark rituals, Dashon and such. Oh and lemon slices. Just slices; don't get your hopes up.

Let the magic begin!

Vine

The rune circle is complete when Moon and Severus return to the Manor, tired and dirty from their recent excursion. They have located their bounty, warding it thoroughly before departing to their quarters to prepare for the ritual.

Situated in the center of the notorious Malfoy dungeons, the room they will be utilizing is grey and damp, lit only by thousands of tiny floating candles. The circular expanse carved from rough granite spans nearly 50 meters in diameter, surrounded by dormant aquamarine symbols. Situated at the apex are two ominously large stone basins, connected by a trough at the base.

Despite placations from the Lady of the Manor, Moon begins to doubt death would be a more morose fate than what she is about to endure.

Moon and Severus arrive at the staircase leading to the dungeons dressed in their ritual attire. Moon wears a simple white cotton dress, devoid of sleeves. Severus can't help but be astonished at how the bright material seems to make her skin glow with energy, showcasing the deep red of her hair and iridescent silver of her eyes. He takes this picture in, knowing she may not have similar features after the ceremony is complete. Severus dons a simple black robe that is so comically close to his typical attire, Moon cannot hide her smirk of amusement. The Malfoys join them, both in black robes matching Snape's. Moon muses upon the irony of feeling like a lamb to the slaughter when surrounded by her confidants and lovers.

As the descent into the dungeons begins, the smell of moss and mildew not present in the upper levels of the Manor reminds Moon she is underneath the Earth, effectively entombing herself in a grave of her own creation. If all goes according to plan, this is a feeling she hopes to never be forced to experience again.

As a full moon rises, Severus levitates his lover face-up with her neck positioned precariously between the two vessels. He dabs a cleaning potion on both sides of her neck, giving her one last kiss of luck before taking his place at her feet.

Moon takes a deep breath, praying to every deity she can conjure that Narcissa Malfoy knows what she's doing, before beginning the incantation.

"Sanguinem damnum, munda me." Moon chants.

"Sanguinem damnum, facere ea purus" her accomplices follow in unison.

The runes glow a violent shade of bright blue, mixing with candlelight to cast the entire room an eerie, putrid shade of green.

Moon's blood spills from a small opening in her neck to begin filling the first basin. She expects to feel faint and dizzy, however she is shocked to find she has a perfectly clear mind. A mind now burdened by the smell of metal and a feeling of warmth seeping from her body.

Narcissa walks to the basin, holding in her hand the only relic Moon has from her father: The acceptance of his Hogwarts admission, which he used his wet tongue to seal in a Muggle envelope nearly a century prior.

"Separata!" The witch intones, dropping the paper into the vat of cooling blood. A thick, murky liquid, one shade off-black, floats to the surface to be captured in a crystal amulet.

Narcissa returns to her station. Moon allows her dark lover's deep timbre to console her into a facsimile of relaxation as he steadily intones

"Finite!"

As the bloodletting ceases and her wound heals, Moon is overwhelmed with a feeling of cold emptiness.

"Sanguinem redire, ut me totum!" she chants with a ferocity she hasn't known until now.

"Sanguinem redire, ut eam totum." her companions echo.

The blood from the first basin flows rapidly to the second, mixing with Circe-knows-what liquids Narcissa procured from St. Mungos. As Moon's skin parts on the opposite side of her neck, she feels a new rush of vitality flowing into her as her heat returns and her body is renewed.

As the last drops of life enter her system, she hears Lucius's familiar tone, albeit devoid of any of his usual smugness and ire:

"Finite."

The runes go dark, and the ritual is complete. A fully alive, intact Moon and one deep red amulet is proof of their efforts. As her comrades set her to rights, Moon wonders silently if it is foolish to believe this is the end of her tribulations.

To know with certainty, she must await the arrival of the Lady of Death.

Weeks pass at the Manor with no appearance from Dashon. Moon has cancelled all of her contracts until further notice to be in Severus's embrace. She must remain with him until she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt he is back in Death's favor.

They bide their time with gentle caresses and passionate moments stolen in the dead of night. Together they share their dreams of a future neither admits to being promised.

They make plans to travel the globe, Moon taming her beasts while Severus teaches Potions Mastery students the world over. They will fly on the backs of dragons and delight on sun-kissed beaches while never parting from each other again. Then, as their thirst for adventure is quenched, they will use their earnings to settle into a small home in the countryside, complete with the joyous sounds of their children filling their hearts.

If only Death wasn't poised to interrupt their daydreams, they would embark on their future today.

Alas, the Lady of Death makes her appearance at the most inopportune time, as is her preferred modus operandi.

An icy black wind fills the air as Moon is laying fully sated in the arms of her beloved. Her inexplicably wild, curly hair covers him like a protective shroud. Not much has changed about Moon since the ritual, other than her hair and the deepening of her bond with her compatriots. She is glad to be free of whatever influence her father's components may have had on her.

The black cloud congeals to reveal the form of a woman. The brilliant green flames of her eyes burn hotter than infinite raging funeral pyres. Her lips are nearly the same shifting black-red of the penance she has come to collect. Moon wonders briefly if this dark creature were birthed from hell itself.

"Well well well…" comes the sound of dragon fire incinerating countless villages. Moon now understands how the being drew the precious lifeblood from her beloved.

"I see the tamer of beasts has lulled into submission the man who fears not Death."

Moon, chagrined, quickly vanishes the black leather straps still holding his ankles to the bedposts, even as she haphazardly moves to clothe herself in his discarded cloak.

"Ah, don't be so modest, sweetie…" hisses the voice of an immense demon Basilisk "...death comes at all times."

The wicked imitation of a grin and inhuman laughter the being excretes malleates the inside of Moon's skull. It feels as though a wild troll is trying to bludgeon it's way through her forehead.

"Severrruss, my friend…" Lady Death continues, even as tears trickle from Acantha's eyes from the sheer pressure building at the sound of her voice. "What have you brought me to satisfy my request?"

Moon speaks on behalf of Snape, daring to chance Death's ire to stand between the monster and her beautiful lover.

"We have brought you a gift most ellegant, O Abider of Darkness. One I believe you will be immeasurably pleased with."

She retrieves the amulet from it's confines to levitate it to the being. Dashon reaches a fanged hand to grasp it from the air.

Severus and Moon both shiver as Death removes the stopper from it, taking a deep inhale of the repugnant liquid.

Lady Death blows a cloud of frigid smoke in the air, as if she has just relished in the finest cigar.

"Most pleased indeed…" she states, her voice like gravel being toppled through a pit full of tin.

As she pours the remains of Tom Riddle into the air before them, she studies the floating pool it creates. With an opening of her skeletal arms, a shape starts to form from the remnants.

It takes on the form of a man, tall with broad shoulders and a stout disposition. As the cloud coalesces completely, Severus has to fight the urge to kneel. _In Death, he has no power. _He astutely reminds himself.

The entire soul of a man stands before them, dark hair perfectly situated even in this moment, blue eyes staring at Death with hatred and contempt.

"Tom, my darling…" hisses Dashon "It's been _far _too long. Time to come home to me."

A/N:"Even Death raises a flirtatious eyebrow when I say 'come to Mama'" - Acantha Rayne Oak-Moon

Feel better Dash! Hope you like your gift! ;)

Vine


	10. Happily Ever After

**A/N: Well this was a fun exercise in creativity.****Thank you to everyone who supported this story and challenged me to write it!****There will be lemons here, since they are a favorite of our consummate Slytherin badass.****Without further ado, let us ride off into the metaphorical sunset…****Vine**

It is a balmy day in Wiltshire when Severus and Acantha apparate in. The sleepy castle Mr. and Mrs. Snape now call home has been vacated for the day in favor of visiting friends en route to Mrs. Snape's periodic check-in with the healer.

Plans have gone awry, as the best ones often do, and the Snape family is now expecting their third child well before their world traveling adventures have begun.

As the couple enters the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor, young twins Thorn and Nox Moon-Snape dawdle off with the youngest Malfoy heirs to race the newest iteration of Nimbus.

Lucius arrives to greet his guests, his radiant wife conspicuously absent.

"It appears congratulations are in order." the Malfoy patriarch intones to the glowing witch as he grants her a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Whether it's the raging hormones caused by the new life growing in her womb, or her heightened sense of smell from the same predicament, his scent overwhelms her. Her mouth is watering, and she must have _more_. A spicy menagerie of bergamot and a rich cherry cigar dance over her tongue as she plunges into his mouth. His lips are as soft and sweet as she remembers; two petals from the most delicate pink rose caressing her as she plunders his taste.

"Well…" he growls, breaking the kiss. "...it's a pleasure to see you too Acantha." A smirk crosses his lips as he retreats slightly. His warm hands are settled gently upon her aching back. She takes pride in the mild flush making itself apparent upon his face and neck.

Severus steps in to complete the embrace. Taking both of her hands to place on Lucius's chest, he wraps his arms around his wife. One hand rests between her swelling breasts, one over the life he helped her create, as he places his lips at the base of her neck. _'Whatever pleases you, love.' _Has been his ever-present mantra the past few years; one that has served him unfailingly.

Lucius takes the opportunity of the close proximity to apparate the three of them to an expertly maintained spare bedroom overlooking the vast Malfoy flower gardens. The breeze from an open window perfumes the air as white silk curtains flutter gracefully around an enormous circular bed.

Acantha pushes the blonde roughly to lay prone on the surface, opting to vanish their wares instantly in her haste to satiate her ever expounding need. The slight roundness in her form pulls her skin taut, showcasing the continuation of life she will endow to this world. Her pearlescent luster astounds Lucius, who for a moment entertains the thought that she is a distinguished embodiment of her namesake. She is every bit as luminous, captivating, and indeed as beautiful as the moon itself.

Severus lifts his wife to rest upon the white silk sheets, attempting to pepper every space of exposed skin with languid kisses and gentle ministrations before turning her into the capable attentions of their companion. As she gives more than she takes, returning each touch four-fold to her lover, Lucius observes in awe. None of his previous animosity is present, replaced by a revitalizing feeling of wholeness and splendor.

Just as he is poised to take himself in hand and leave his friend to his own moment with the love of his life, Acantha looks to him. Her back is arched seductively; grey eyes smoldering as the smoke from a volcano on the brink of eruption. She stretches into a most feline pose between his legs, her full breasts barely grazing his aching desires. The woman moves methodically, placing an open mouthed kiss above his hip as she positions her knees outside of his thighs. Although he can feel the heat emanating from her, it is but a stray breath of warmth from the inferno raging in her core.

Nothing can prepare him for the feeling of being within her depths. She holds herself high as she fully encases him, eliciting a groan of his pleasure as his mind goes blank. At once, he is dashed away in the rapid current of her movements. His knuckles glow a burning white where he grips her smooth thighs for stability; afraid if he releases his hold he may fall from the Earth and tumble into nothingness.

She tosses her black curls back to cascade sensuously across her shoulders, relishing in the fresh breeze that soothes her. The caress of gardenia and jasmine cradles her whole body, as if the wind itself is supporting her endeavors. The coolness of the air makes all the more prevalent the heat she feels inside as every nerve is catered to and nurtured.

Streams of her love trickle down his waist, creating a slick pool where their bodies are joined. As he moans his release, oceans of their own making flow under the bridge of his lower back to empty into the sheets beneath.

She leans forward, placing her weight solidly on his chest as she torments his lower lip with her teeth. She slides a hand through his hair to grip soundly at the scalp, swallowing a moan of her own as her muscles close at the source of her fountains.

He handles her as he would one of his heirloom crystal vases; laying her gingerly on her back, placing one last chaste kiss to her lips as he brushes the hair away from her eyes. He hardly recalls what she looked like with the straight ruby locks surely inherited from her father's side. Now her flowing black curls will always paint a picture in his mind of a river at midnight, carrying away his resolve by the shine of the moon.

Her dark love has positioned himself above her, hoisting himself up onto the muscles of his forearms as not to disturb the blooming life between them. He tenderly strokes her face, drinking in the softness of her skin before he allows himself to be enveloped within her.

Their bodies glide along each other as smoothly as the silken bedding beneath them. This dance is a familiar one; their rhythms completely in sync as they move together as one. It is difficult to discern where her body ends and his begins as their very heartbeats combine in her womb.

After the music of their panting and sighs are complete, they fall into each other's arms in euphoria. Lucius lays with his back to Moon, her arm securely around his waist, even as Severus is holding her in the same fashion. She muses idley they must look like a mismatched set of measuring spoons to any outside observers. With a quiet, melodious laugh, she allows a peaceful rest to lull her into her dreams.

The trio are awakened sometime later by a gentle rapping of the door knocker.

"Mimsy, leave the tea tray in the hall!" Lucius grumbles through his sleep-induced trance, smothering his face under a pillow to block out any lingering rays of late afternoon sun.

The door groans open a hairsbreadth, as a delicate feminine face presents itself.

"The healer has arrived for Acantha, dear." chimes Narcissa through the threshold, imploring her guest to rise and clothe herself.

Acantha and Severus don their robes hastily to follow the Lady of the Manor to meet with the healer as Lucius remains in bed to finish his rest.

When they arrive in the Manor's grand library, they are greeted by a familiar face in light green robes. Her enormous hair is pulled less into a queue than a crowd at the back of her head, and her warm honey eyes are lit by a beaming smile.

"Hello, Healer Granger." greets Acantha as she sashays into the room with Severus on her heels. "Thank you again for meeting us here on such short notice."

As the witch in green smiles, a lovely, bright light seems to fill her countenance and ricochet off the darkness of the library shelves.

"It was no problem at all." she remarks. "I was planning on a visit after work, so you allowed me to leave the hospital early."

Having transferred from the Vampiric Sustenance Unit of St. Mungo's a bit over two years ago, Healer Granger is now renowned in the field of Magical Birthing and Maternal Healing. Acantha is reassured to be in the hands of such a capable and talented witch.

"Why don't you have a seat Mrs. Snape? Make yourself comfortable." the healer requests, guiding Acantha to a plush armchair by the fire.

Healer Granger waves her wand to run a myriad of diagnostic spells on her expectant patient before continuing.

"Empathy levels look good." She states pragmatically, once again offering a consoling smile towards her charge. "As do happiness and overall well being. Never can be too careful with those vitals." She spares Acantha a wink before furthering her analysis.

She waves her wand in a large swoop, projecting into the air a moving image of a tiny human sleeping peacefully in her mother's belly. Healer Granger casts a 'sonorus', and the room is filled with the drumming sound of a new heartbeat. Severus's eyes sting with unshed tears at seeing and hearing his daughter, knowing she is well.

Healer Granger cancels her spell as she concludes her examination.

"Mrs. Snape, everything seems to be moving along swimmingly for our little Gemini. She should be ready to make her appearance right on schedule."

Healer Granger taps her want to her lip, seemingly in deep thought. She speaks, looking into Acantha's eyes.

"I wonder if the genetic traits passed along to you through the ritual are hereditary." she muses aloud "The boys don't seem to have any of my family's features, and I can only wonder if Gemini is going to have the curls I so mercilessly bestowed upon you." She grins and laughs - a full bodied, hearty sound. Acantha smirks an amused grin as she joins in.

"Well, Healer Granger," she begins "Truly, I am forever in your debt for ridding me of my father's unfortunate presence. The curls are but a serendipitous side effect." She tosses her hair over her back to illustrate her point. "Gives me a rather wild and untamed aesthetic, in my opinion."

"Ah, it was the least I could do." The healer replies with a smile. An endearing blush creeps from her cheeks to the top of her collarbone as she speaks. "When Cissy told me a dear friend of hers was in need, I had to do everything in my power to set things to rights. I couldn't very well have given you some random person's blood from the donations and kept my conscience in tact."

The tiny blonde she speaks of manifests herself close to the healer, settling her petite hands on the shoulders slightly above her line of sight.

"One of the many reasons I love you." she says unabashedly, pulling her taller companion in to set a lingering kiss upon her full lips.

The healer pulls away, the rosy hue spreading from her chest to the roots of her hair at the provocation. Another bellowing laugh escapes as she jests with her paramour.

"Cissy, I'm at work!" She says through her teeth, with absolutely none of the Gryffindor conviction she's become known for present in her tone.

"Oh hush, you. You're work is finished here." replies the blonde, with a playful bat to her lover's arm. "You're all mine now." She says, locking her ice blue eyes onto the honey ones before her in a mesmerizing gaze. Healer Granger muses that truer words have never been spoken.

"I must agree with our dear Acantha." comes a man's smooth timbre from the library entrance. Lucius has apparently awakened, and arrives to join the conversation with his sparkling Fae in tow.

"The hair texture is nothing if not an enhancement on her already enchanting countenance. It's quite befitting of a Snape." He toys with one of said curls, pulling it taught around his finger and allowing it to spring back into life at his release. Overcome with joy at his friend's procuring of such an exquisite bride, he bequeaths one of his rare, blinding white smiles to Severus; who for his part responds with the smug look of a thief who has stumbled upon a din of treasure. The Fae sighs as her heart flutters rapidly in her chest.

"Mrs. Snape," the fairy begins.

At her human height, the tiny creature is barely eye level with Acantha's shoulder, and as such the witch has to look down to acknowledge her.

"Please accept this gift," the Fae continues "...to be taken once the baby is safely on this side of the womb."

She pulls a large vial of liquid from the pocket of her short dress, reaching towards Acantha. The fluid inside is an iridescent spendor, swirling and swimming inside of it's confines.

"Vine, thank you for your generosity." Acantha intones, gingerly handling the liquid which seems to come to life at her touch. "What effects does this potion have?"

The fairy laughs a tinkling melody, like wind chimes being cajoled by a spring breeze.

"It will give you wings!" she states excitedly, with all the wonder of a small child on Yule morning. "So you can be back in the sky where you belong. One such as you has no business being restricted to the Earth."

Acantha is besotted by the prospect, pulling the fairy into an embrace as her eyes well with tears.

"Thank you." she says again, whispering into the messy caramel hair that smells of sunshine and new spring.

Acantha looks around, searching for the Fae's accomplice.

"Where is Nyxxi?" she asks in curiosity, seeing the green fairy's enamoring counterpart is absent from this reunion.

The Fae places her marshmallow fists upon her ample hips in a huff.

"Do you know she absconded to Latin America with some stuffy redhead?" she laments, pursing her lips as a flustered baby rabbit. "Percival Weasley." she says with a scrunch of her nose. "She's probably off singing on some beach, imbibing muggle drinks from some tropical fruit without a care in the world!" The fairy giggles at this imagining of her friend living a carefree life by the ocean. She hopes when the waves sparkle beneath the moon, Nyxxi will capture each moment and remember her fondly.

Acantha laughs at the thought of her tiny companion doing backstrokes inside of a pineapple as she overindulges in the colorful muggle libations. Inebriated Fae, she has learned, are quite an entertaining lot.

The Snapes and Malfoys along with Healer Granger and Vine take their tea by the fireplace until the twins return with the Malfoy heirs to request their dinner. They chat well into the night before deciding to retire to their castle home.

Meanwhile at the Snape abode, a ghastly being stirs a cauldron in wait for her family to return. Truthfully, she enjoys the spare moments of peace in the potions lab of the Snape-Moon home. However, she admits to herself that she misses the sounds of the boys' feet clanging on every stone surface, and the rich baritone of her charge echoing from the walls to "Get down from there this instant!" and the like.

As she mixes each concoction to exact specifications, she has a mind to summon her pet for his help and companionship.

The pull of darkness felt at his summons has become a comforting feeling to Tom Riddle's soul. As the pitch blanket wraps him in a moonless night, he knows he will reappear somewhere in the corporeal world to do Lady Death's bidding. Although Master of Death had been his aspiration during life, Favorite Lackey of Death is a role he plays well, and enjoys immensely.

As his form solidifies in the potions laboratory of Snape Castle, he gazes upon a face he has learned to memorize. To him, she no longer appears as a ghostly visage, but a starry goddess. Her flames dissolve before him to reveal the most brilliant jade green eyes, lit from within with primordial fire. Her bloodstained mouth parts to become a velvet black rose, tinged just slightly with the deepest crimson flush.

As her thin silver arms pull him in to her cooling caress, he inhales the scent of sandalwood and freshly turned earth. His memory flashes to raging fires, melding them together as his chosen path burns away to prepare him for new beginnings.

It's ironic, in a way, that he should find himself fully formed in the embrace of Dashon. As their lips collide in a pillowing of his conscious, the kiss of the Goddess of Death has never felt so fulfilling. In this world, he never would have expected to be made complete by the being he fought so fervently to conquer and subjugate.

As she sets him to work stirring pots of Healing Laughter potion, he muses that in Death, there is life.

\-- The End, and the Beginning --

**A/N: Well, we made it!!****So much for a "one shot devoid of plot". Moon's glorious plot vipers swallowed my plans whole and gave birth to a happily ever after for all. So glad to have met her and all the Coven fam.****The idea of "vitals" being empathy and happiness came straight from Gibi ASMR.****Big shout out to Dash, Glorious Stirrer of Pots and Bringer of Healing Laughter, for making Death an appealing prospect.****The FaeWeasel shipping was a gift to Nyxx.****In the words of one of my favorite IRL wizards,****"I'm out this bitch, and it all worked out."****Fairy sparkles and all the life bringing laughs,****Vine**


End file.
